Limping Sherlock, Broken Table, John's Cream and Sylvia Anderson!
by Yamaanita
Summary: Sherlock looked rather smug now. "Oh yes. He got rather heated last night, broke the table and everything-." He what? Wait, Sherlock, what are you talking about? John got 'heated? He broke the table? "-And it was all because he did the thing with the tongue, it annoys me-" He did the thing with the 'tongue'. In which direction is this conversation going? NOT SLASH!


_Hello! Hello! Hello! Hello- Okay, okay, I'll stop now. _

_Um. No offence to any French nuns or people reading this. It was just random that I chose French as a nationality._

_You probably have no idea to what I am talking about, right? Oh well…_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Although I damn well wish I did._

_Enjoy!_

_**One day, at New Scotland Yard, Sherlock Holmes walked into a crime scene. Everything was normal except that the deducting detective was limping. Badly. As in nearly toppling over. And John, the faithful and Bamf!-Sidekick was not by his side.**_

**GREGORY LESTRADE'S POV**

Was Sherlock okay? He was limping so badly, did something go wrong with a case? I haven't assigned him anything for a long time… Wait-he didn't go off by himself did he?! John was meant to be watching him! After the French nun case with the candlestick and red wine with cheese mould, John should have learnt not to leave Sherlock alone! And certainly not when he hasn't got a case for a month…

I mouthed a quick prayer that no French nuns were poisoned or injured while Sherlock was on 'No Case Meltdown', the time when sociopath deducting detectives like Sherlock were most dangerous.

God, please answer me.

Sherlock remained comically limping around the crime scene, muttering to himself.

Why on earth was he limping like that? It was time to find out. To ask _the question._

Courage, Lestrade, you must have courage.

"So, Sherlock. How's life?" Smooth and slick. Nice going, Greggy Pal.

Sherlock gave me the, 'You're not worth my valuable time, and I'm not going to dignify that with an answer' look.

Oh. Okay. I'll be direct this time.

"Well, I meant, are you feeling alright? Are you injured? Only, you're limping-" Just in case you haven't noticed yet. "- and I thought you must have been on a case or something to have got injured."

Sherlock looked at me. YES! REACTION!

He sighed. "Of course not Lestrade, it was only John."

JOHN? Not a French nun who tried to kill you because she thought you were the Devil?

"John?!" Really…?! What did you do to get John that annoyed Sherlock? Wait. I don't want to know.

Sherlock looked rather smug now. "Oh yes. He got rather heated last night, broke the table and everything-."

He what? Wait, Sherlock, what are you talking about? John got 'heated'? He broke the table?

"-And it was all because he did the thing with the tongue, it annoys me-"

He did the thing with the 'tongue'. In which direction is this conversation going?

"-All his cream was going everywhere; I thought it was a waste, so-"

John's 'cream' was going everywhere?

…

"-I just tried to help! Really, and he got so-"

"**Stop! Stop! My ears!" **

Anderson fled the room. I'd forgotten he was there, with all of Sherlock's 'cream' talk.

"What's wrong with Anderson now? Really, is he on his menstrual period or something?" Sherlock sounded annoyed.

Menstrual period…?

"Err, Sherlock, Anderson is a guy. I know, I know, I had my suspicions too but, yeah, he's a guy."

"Do you have proof?" Sherlock demanded.

Err, no, never bothered to check, you could ask Sally though, the amount of times she's been round to 'scrub his floors', she should know…

"I'm going to prove it to you guys, just you watch." Sherlock charged after Anderson.

That wasn't a good idea. Because, you know Sherlock, Anderson's a huge homophobic, and you just coming out in front of New Scotland Yard and him was not a good mix.

Wait-just coming out to New Scotland Yard… OMG, SHERLOCK'S GAY? AND WITH JOHN? THEY BROKE A TABLE? WITH JOHN'S CREAM? AND I ONLY JUST REALISED?

"Sally! Bring me an orange blanket! And some for the other chaps too!"

And that was the last thing he remembered before Lestrade fainted.

**You naughty, naughty readers. What were you imagining? Such bad readers.**

**But this is not slash. What really happened? Find out.**

**Sherlock Holmes POV**

Sherlock was annoyed. John was doing the thing again. With the tongue and cream. He was such a messy eater. How could someone manage to get cream on their nose? It was only chocolate brownies in cream. He'd gotten it all over his face.

There was a whole chocolate brownie in John's bowl left. Sherlock had finished all of his. They were really tasty, Mrs Hudson's speciality. A sneaky plan formed in Sherlock's head.

He crept behind John and said nonchalantly, while John was trying to lick cream off his nose:

"You realise you look like you're doing a pig impression when you do that?" Sherlock's hand quickly snatched the brownie.

Okay, he may have forgotten that John knew martial arts. Really, flipping him onto the coffee table like that. He broke the lovely cherry wood carved table! It was such a nice table as well.

Later, Sherlock reflected on what he had done. Oh well. It had had been worth it. To have seen John's split second expression of rage at both Sherlock's insult and the fact that Sherlock had eaten his brownie had been priceless. Pity he hadn't gotten a photo. Maybe he'll ask Mycroft if he picked up anything on the CCTV. Unfortunately, Sylvia Anderson had gotten away. No matter. Mycroft owed him a favour. If Sherlock hadn't altered those Weightwatcher's results, Mycroft would have been humiliated. He would definitely prove Sylvia's gender to them next time.

Wait for me, Miss Anderson!

Review. This is a one-shot, unless you want more. Thank you for reading! *bow*

Aligato Gozaiimasu!


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